


ONE FLOWER TO A FUNERAL // NO FLOWERS TO A FUNERAL.

by stxrryy



Series: oneshots. // dream smp [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fundy needs a hug, he just wants his friends back poor fox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stxrryy/pseuds/stxrryy
Summary: aftermath of chapter 27 of 'The Hunt For A Lost Man'.https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610045
Relationships: Eret & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Eret & Niki | Nihachu, Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: oneshots. // dream smp [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072130
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	ONE FLOWER TO A FUNERAL // NO FLOWERS TO A FUNERAL.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tommy and Tubbo's Guide To Not Fucking Up Your Country](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610045) by [Gravestone_Monarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravestone_Monarch/pseuds/Gravestone_Monarch). 



By the time everything had struck him that night, everyone around Fundy was fast asleep - probably attempting to get rest for the fights and the lives they had planned ahead. Fundy could not and would not blame any of them for getting rest; if anything, it was good they all had decided to sleep for a while. 

(Either that or no one was about to open the door to a slightly doubtful fox with marks still staining his face and a mind he wanted to speak. And that was fine too, he'd say to himself as he stared at the wood of each door or the glass of each window.) 

.. but that still slightly inconvenienced him, and even more so upset him as that meant he had no one to talk to about the events that had unfolded that day. 

No Quackity - not that he was good for emotional support of any kind, but the guy seemed to be a nervous wreck so even a knock of a door might startle him awake. So instead of knocking, Fundy had peered at the front window of the home beside his house and assumed lights out meant Quackity was getting the sleep he needed. 

No Phil. Fundy knew Phil, and Fundy knew Phil, and Fundy knew Phil was busy. Phil was good for talking, but not for making time. And certainly not for dealing with being overwhelmed. 

No Wilbur. 

Fundy had not knocked at Wilbur's temporary door or even thought of doing it, instead scurrying to Niki's door and--

... 

By the time Fundy had figured out all backs were turned on him - or he had turned away from all - he had found the words to say, repeated them over and over in his mind as not to forget, and lost them all on one doorstep, the only thing surrounding him being flowers. 

.. they were surely mocking him. 

Bright, beautiful, waving softly to the wind. 

(Nothing like the one crumpled and destroyed still in his inner jacket pocket - and now sitting by Eret's glasses - remaining there even after Niki had gifted it to him and he had been shot and he had gotten back and he had lived after Niki and Eret and the flower itself had died and--)

So he picked one. 

He couldn't fully tell what colour it was until he stood under the dull moonlight and saw the slightest hint of pale pink. The act was made just a little harder by the shaking of his bandaged paw, wrapped by Niki herself, and made much harder by that moon. 

Eret liked the moon. 

Eret liked the stars. 

.. if-- if Fundy could not and would not speak to the world and the few people that lived in his now, maybe he'd speak with his actions instead of his words. With objects, as fucking miserable as that sounded. 

In a garden that stood just outside the entrance of a desolate home. 

(Niki said she loved her home, even if sometimes it was empty without the pets the two had owned together. She had her garden; she had sunshine and her bakery, fresh bread that she would make. He'd quietly hope she'd have extra snacks to drop off at his place, because sometimes she'd come and visit.) 

Far away from the castle whose bright and colourful flag waved. 

(Maybe not L'Manberg's flag, but Eret adored his castle like he adored his sunglasses and like he adored the moon and the stars. It was him; it was his company for the time he took to gather enough confidence to speak against Dream. It was lonely now. It only had itself as company. Flags of pride to speak for someone who didn't have any pride anymore. Who didn't have anything.)

Fundy had taken the time to look around for anyone and was quietly just left with himself and a garden. 

And while he had frustrated, all he could do was sigh bleakly, and glance over at the one lone tree left in Niki's-- the garden. 

Nobody could blame him for clenching his fists and biting his lip, watching his own vision darken and blur as he stood out of the way of gleaming moonlight and into shade created by the apple tree. 

(Nobody was there, even if Fundy could quietly hope for a certain face to show under muttered breath and darkened tears he quickly blinked away. He'd only wish for shooting stars that Eret would excitedly point to to wish for Eret and Niki or just one of them or even just to hear them or--)

Fundy was left with frustration, clenched fists, and a tree that he only felt himself crumble under. 

But instead of careless steps over flowers that crushed under his shoes and deafening cracks of punch upon punch upon break upon scream upon sob, he just.. softly approached it, minding his step of Niki's once owned flowers, and keeping a tight grip on the one he had picked out of the grass. 

Bandages were soon taken from his paws, first softly and then soon ripped as they had inevitably caught in his claws. Which was a little painful, since the wounds on them from splinters and rocks that had once caught into his fur were torn a little from their smaller scabs, but he could bear it with his canine biting a little deeper into his bottom lip to distract temporarily. 

.. the bandages were long enough to silently tie around the tree. With slight difficulty due to the moonlight being so dim, he had only taken a smaller step forward once one of the two bandages was secure on the bark. It caught in areas where the wood wasn't as smooth, but he didn't really care about how pretty it looked after managing to wrap it around the tree, still holding the pale pink flowers as a small reminder. 

(He didn't seem to plan on letting it go. Any of it, really. What he had endured today, and what was to come in the future and all in between. He only quietly hoped the marks on his paws would scar as a consequence of this, so he knew he wouldn't forget their connection.) 

...

By the time Fundy had figured out his actions, and what he wanted to say, he was back to how he had been before he showed up, looking for help. Silent tears streaming down a focused face. 

A horrible, and most likely confusing sight for any passerby since he was simply standing in front of a tree and trying to find words to say to himself and no one else. He figured if anyone were to wake up and see this, it wouldn't be his doing anyway; Fundy often stayed silent when he cried. Before today, maybe Wilbur would be the only living person to have seen him actually wail and sob in response to anything. 

But instead of find any success in saying a single word, Fundy had only found the strength to drag a claw along the bark and scratch along, following only his mind and seeing the slightest hint of the words he engraved on its surface. 

Maybe Eret would be easier at this. The guy wore sunglasses all the time; yes, to cover the eyes he shouldn't have ever been ashamed about, but he did it through thick and thin nonetheless. 

(One time, Fundy remembered that Eret had taken his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes, only to watch as he and Niki stared back at him with such admiration. Fundy had not been there to watch Eret become stronger to fight Dream off in favour of his friends and found family, but Fundy had seen him slowly gain confidence in the eyes that stared back at the two that day so softly and calmly.) 

Fundy wasn't about to check if the sunglasses helped or not with seeing in the dark. They weren't his; even if they essentially weren't anyone's at this point, Fundy didn't want to claim them as his own. Like the scratches in the tree, or the tree, or the garden. Even the flowers he held close were not his own. 

So he could leave them here. With the bandages wrapped around the tree, like he was leaving Eret to settle with Niki - just for the time being. While he couldn't see himself forgetting them for the days to come, he did want them to rest, if anything. 

He had stood away before he had given himself time to think about what to say. The work engraved in the tree was messy and Fundy had known sloppiness was inevitable; it was too dark and he didn't want to damage his claws any further than he had. 

But even if his right claws were still intact, it meant that he was left with a deafening silence. 

...

By the time a sob wracked his body, he had thought that maybe the silence was best. Maybe not silence accompanied by hics and cries, but he needed time to let himself grieve. 

Each cry was followed by thoughts like waves hitting him over and over.

He needed to grieve.

(For however long it took, Fundy would let himself grieve. He'd go face first into battle and avenge the two if that's what he wanted for them, or he'd be patient and choose to change for the lives cut horribly short.) 

How was he meant to get over this? 

(Trick question - he was never going to get over them. He'd never leave their deaths behind, even if his thoughts were gloomy now and might be more optimistic later. Maybe that was okay. Maybe it wasn't. Hell, Fundy couldn't figure that out in sobs.) 

He didn't want to just--.. leave them there. 

(Not that he had a choice. They were gone. Dead. It was better than tricking himself into believing they didn't exist in the first place.)

This was just like a funeral. 

And so it was a funeral, with one visitor and no one to comfort him but the makeshift gravestone and the dozens of flowers below him, too low to ever reach up to him. The only one to ever make him feel as if he was among the greenery was the pale pink flower in his paw. 

One flower at a funeral. 

So as his cries softened, and he wiped his face over and over, leaving more marks on his cheeks, he had only one thing to say. He didn't wanna leave them talking for the night; as hard as it was to stomach, he had to let them rest. For their sake, not his, he'd tell himself. 

"I didn't realise I had made a funeral-- for two people and only one to actually come here. I didn't plan this; I-I just wanted to talk to someone." 

So much for talking with people. Fundy was talking to no one. 

Silently hoping that one of the stars would listen, or one of the flowers would take a listen, even if he knew wishing at this point was hopeless and they were just objects. Whether sentimental or not, they were just objects. 

"And now I'm talking to a tree. I don't know if Niki would find that funny or stupid--"

Fundy had cracked a small smile that was accompanied by a few sniffles. 

"But-- u-uhm-... I want you two to rest too. I don't wanna wake you two up; even if Eret would probably still be awake. Full moon tonight. Heh- he's probably cursing he didn't get to see it. Well, Eret, I'll have to tell you what it looks like now." 

It was pale and somewhat dim. Which was fine and was pretty, but still didn't help him in marking the tree. His eyes had laid upon the marks dozens of times already, and while his eyes mainly focused on the reflection of the moon on Eret's sunglasses, already tucked into the bandages on the tree, he had only found himself finding more and more imperfections in the tree. 

".. but not tonight. 

I'll come back tomorrow, and then it won't be a funeral. It'll just be a talk." 

(Fundy never liked funerals. Not that he really got to go to any, but he felt like funerals were too gloomy. Sally was long gone in his life and he never had a funeral for her, despite letting her go along with the hope of his own father turning into a caring man.) 

But this was it. 

His only chance to walk away, and feel like it was a breath of relief, a step forward to accepting the events. To feel like he talked and cried and even helped someone. 

And so he took it. Quietly glancing down at the flowers in the grass below him, he had planned a path out without hurting any of them, as Niki would hope they wouldn't be stood on. And so one word comes to the tip of his tongue as he glanced at the tree for what felt for the last time that night. 

"Uhm-- bye. I'll see you two tomorrow." 

Halfway through his sentence, Fundy had lost grip of the flower, and it landed softly in the grass after fluttering down. He decided it was better this way, to end the funeral off with no flowers at all. Because these flowers were not for a funeral. The flowers were Niki's, and only hers. And Fundy couldn't say she wanted them to be at her and Eret's joined funeral. 

By the time Fundy had let himself step away and give a brief wipe of his cheeks once again, he had realised that everyone around him was asleep. 

…

And as he hurried along the path he had made from his mind and got far enough away from the tree that the words scribbled on its surface were nothing but scribbles; 

(He had written Niki and Eret's names, and drawn a small star under them. He didn't even fully understand the star, as the names made sense but the symbol did not. Was it to say that he did this under starlight? Maybe he did it because Eret was fond of the stars. He didn't really know.) 

He had only one thought. The waves had settled long ago, and they wouldn't rise again - for a while to breathe, at least.

Maybe it was good that everyone was asleep. 

Including Niki and Eret. 

... 

Maybe, just for one night before he faces their enemies head-on or follows the path along here again, it was okay. He could let that go. Like the pale pink flower laying on the grass under the tree, unlike the others that were tied to the soil by the simple roots they made. 

It was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> god poor fundy   
> you cant blame me for focusing on him, he's my favourite 
> 
> but holy shit losing your two best friends in one day?? yeah id have at least one breakdown and one small funeral, wouldn't you too? /j   
> god i hope this isn't ooc of him


End file.
